trust me
by Kagii
Summary: Character death. i mean, its not like i enjoy being dead. i hate seeing what it's doing to everybody..but somehow, this is even worse.
1. Chapter 1

I mean, it's not like I enjoy being dead.

I hate seeing what it's doing to everybody.

Not like I could help it though, that guy shot me. A couple times.

Chest and head.

-

It was just a regular crime scene. A little dusting and collection.

Everyone hates when suspects come back. Grissom and Nick were there too. All of us working hard, not paying attention. Nobody noticed when the guy slipped in through the back door. But suddenly Grissom was tapping me on the shoulder and there's a guy with a gun right there. Grissom kept a gloved hand on my shoulder most of the time. The three of us were lined up, with that guy calmly aiming a gun at us.

"Call for help and I'll kill you." he was awfully creative too. I mean, I say that now, but at the time, I was scared shitless. I couldn't move. There was this horrible tugging at my chest. I wanted to puke.

I wanted this to be over.

Bad stuff happens... happened to me all the time. But it always came out okay.

"Are you okay?" Grissom whispered in my ear. I shook my head.

"What're you saying?" our attacker glared. "Stop talking. No planning." he looked at Grissom and me. "You two split up." he motioned for Grissom to move. I didn't want him to leave me.

"Hey man..." I put my hands up, just in case. I wanted this to be over.

"Stop!"

"Greg!" Nick snapped at me. He was just scared too. He was scared for me. They were both scared for me, because I'd made the mistake of talking first.

"Shut up!" our attacker swung the aim of his gun from me to Nick.

"No! Hey!" he swung it back around and, maybe accidentally, pulled the trigger.

A bullet ripped the shit out of my chest.

I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. I couldn't breathe, and it hurt so much. I looked down and there was a puddle of blood spreading from my chest. Now I really wanted to puke.

I heard Grissom and Nick gasp and lurch forward. They wanted to help me, but they couldn't because that guy had a gun on them. I struggled to roll over onto my side, so I wouldn't choke on my own blood.

God, it hurt.

God's not that bad, actually. He doesn't hate me as much as I thought.

But his sense of humor sucks.

"Let us help him..." Grissom never hated me either. "Please."

Since when was my life one big joke?

"He's gonna die..." nick's from Texas.

As I laid there dieing, random facts came into my head. I guess I knew I wasn't gonna make it.

How is it funny that everything goes wrong... went wrong for me?

Maybe, in god's eyes, humor is hate. They both suck.

The suspect-attacker kicked me in the shoulder to roll me back over. He stood over me and looked down into my eyes. I pleaded with him silently.

Don't do this. Please.

I could see straight up the gun barrel.

"You're torturing him!"

The blood is pooling on me now. That shirt'll never be the same.

"Well, I can fix that." this guy is sick. He cocked the gun and aimed. I threw a look at Nick and Grissom. This wasn't fair.

He pulled the trigger.

And I died. Just like that.

Snap.

-

The moment I wake up in Heaven, I think, "Didn't another new CSI die like this? On this same team?"

God says to me, "its okay. I'm sorry. You're okay." what a bitch.

Here in heaven, I wear the stuff I died in. it sucks, because I wasn't in my most comfortable jeans.

My shirt is blood stained but my head just has this little circular scar on it.

I say to God, "tell ya what," over his nice oak desk, I say, "I'm not okay."

So now, I spend most of my time watching them. The people god took me away from.

And everyone's such a mess.

-

"nick." he's sitting in the break room, tossing a bag of my coffee from hand to hand.

Heaven has bad coffee. It kinda sucks up here.

"Hey Griss..." Sara disappeared from work. She's been at home crying for a couple days.

"How are you today?" Catharine took her collective vacation days and took Lindsey and they flew off to where-ever Catherine's from. She's crying while her parents take care of their granddaughter.

"Not great." Warrick's been seeing movies non-stop. One right after the other, almost 24/7 since I died. I never really took him as the movie type. He's seen most of the films twice by now.

"It wasn't your fault." Nick took a day off, before he just came to work and sat and thought.

"I don't think that." Grissom sits down next to him. Both of their eyes are red and puffy. Grissom sighs.

"No. I know you don't." he says to me, in his head,

'Greg, I wish you were back.' funny thing about being dead is, when people think directly to you, you can hear it.

'Me too.' I think back at him, wishing he'd hear me. He won't though.

Grissom took a trip out to the middle of the desert and screamed and screamed and screamed.

Sometimes, I like to tell myself he cried.

-

When people dream, down on Earth, I like to poke my head in. I used to do it a lot, but I hate seeing people feel awful when they wake up. They just start to pack up those memories and put them away into a little crate in the back of their memory, and then I pop into their dreams and all those memories and thoughts come back full frontal.

It's mean and selfish of me.

But tonight, I have to.

God grants lots of little wishes for dead people. It's easy. I even have my own little apartment up here.

Tonight, I ask for a suit, and I get one, and I delve into Grissoms dream. He doesn't dream a lot, and I usually hate to disrupt his nice dreams but...

He's been thinking to me a lot lately. A little too often really. I think he blames himself a little.

I fiddle with his dream so we're in my DNA lab. I'm leaning against a counter, and he's standing in the doorway.

"Greg?" dreamGrissom stares at me.

"It's not your fault." thing is, I have to be all cryptic and vague and not really me, so that he can't think it's actually me. He has to wake up thinking I was just a dream, and everything I say came from his mind somewhere.

"Greg!" dreamGrissom runs over to me and grabs my shoulders.

"I'm okay."

"Greg! Don't leave again! We need you!" he shakes me, and I try to keep my face straight. I can't seem real.

"Get back to your life."

"We don't have a life without you! It hurts too much Greg! Please..." he whimpers sadly. This is a side of Grissom I've never ever seen. I feel like there are tears welling in my eyes.

"It's gonna be okay." I break character. "Everything's gonna be okay. Things'll go back to normal eventually. You'll put me in the back of your mind, and only think of me late at night when you're all alone. And I'll always be there for you. I'll watch over you guys. And besides, we all die eventually. We'll all be together again at some point." I smile to him. I want him to cheer up. My stupid dream character dissolved a while ago. So dreamGrissom cries and I hug him, and I want to be alive again so bad.

I say to him, "thing's will be okay."

I say, "Keep living."

I say, "Trust me." 


	2. Chapter 2

Things are not okay.

God makes us go to his office and talk to him for an hour at least once a week. It's like a pshyciatrists visit. We're supposed to say that things are good up here, and that we're happy.

I'm not happy.

And I don't understand how he has time for everyone. I never realized how many people were dead.

Every week, I sit across from him and I say,

"No, I'm not happy." and I always ask him for things. God seems to think that giving us what we want, so we can build our perfect life, will make us happy. It doesn't work for me.

Every week, I ask for my life back. God frowns at me, and says I'm resisting treatment. Help.

He can call it what he wants.

I've been dead for a month now.

XXX

"Hey Griss." I've been breaking the rules.

I miss him, and he needs me.

"Greg!" and he's so glad to see me.

"Grissom, you know I don't have too long." he nods. I scuff my feet on the floor.

"Things are hard. Without you."

"That's sweet, Griss." it was hard watching them all go back to work without me.

XXX

When I died, Nick fell to his knees. Grissom just stood there.

I was going through god's historical tapes.

When you die, he gives you a copy of your entire life and a little after it, on VHS. A lot of people want to know what happened right after they died. Mostly in cases like mine.

In violent, unexpected deaths.

Anyway, my killer ran, and Grissom calmly called 911. Like he didn't even care.

I've never seen anyone as bloodied as I looked. Maybe being a CSI wasn't really for me. With that little hole on my forehead and all that blood over me. I didn't know I had that much blood in me.

XXX

DreamGrissom and I talk almost every night now. After that first time, when he begged me not to go. I told him I'd see him again.

This is breaking the rules.

"Grissom." I always put us in my lab. God's punishing me tonight. I can see my reflection in the glass partition.

Usually, God doesn't care what you do. He doesn't pay close attention, but when you break the rules he starts to. He realizes that I'm actually communicating with Grissom and this is what he does.

Tonight, when I go into Grissoms dream, I tweak it, and then God tweaks it.

He gores me up. I'm in the clothes I died in. my shirt, madras, is covered in brown-red blood stains that trickle down onto drips and streaks on my pants. That on its own is scary looking.

But my face has blood all over it. It radiates out from the scar on my head. The blood runs down my neck and over my collar bone and seeps through my shirt.

"What happened?" dreamGrissom stares at me, looking half disgusted. I smile.

"God's being mean." he takes two steps over to me and stares. It's that look. The pursed lips, concentration look. "What?" he puts his hands on my face and waits.

"Grissom..." it's like a slap to the face. He starts wiping the blood off, and it hurts me. "Grissom!" it hurts everywhere he touches.

Where there's not blood, it hurts.

His hands move down on my neck.

"Grissom! Stop!" he doesn't though. His finger traces along my collar bone, through a little pool of blood, and it burns. I'm taking breaths in short painful gulps. "Grissom!" I grab his wrist and wrench it away from me. Tears well in my eyes. DreamGrissom looks hurt and confused. "You're hurting me. Stop."

"Greg... I..." I release his wrist and turn to the counter, my back to him. Placing my hands on the cool plastic, I feel like I'm drowning.

"I have to go."

"No! I didn't mean to hurt you! Greg, god... please don't go..." he takes hold of my arms, spinning me around to face him. This hurts too.

I thought it was him wiping the blood away. I was wrong.

It's him touching me.

"Grissom..." I clench my teeth to hide my pain. "I... I..." my head snaps to the side, and I'm out.

XXX

"Gregory." I think every boy named 'Gregory' goes by 'Greg'.

Stupid God.

"You know there's nothing I can really do to punish you." he says nice nice things to me. "But you have to stop this."

"No."

"It's against the rules."

Stupid rules.

"I don't care. I never wanted to be dead anyway. I hate it here." pow. I know that hurt him.

"When you're dead, you're dead. There's no communication." He puts his hands together on his desk and looks at me sadly. I was a disappointment. "You had such potential."

"Hey, I'm not the one who killed me. All that credit goes to you." I can almost see his thoughts ticking by behind his eyes.

"The man who killed you wasn't supposed to. Things just worked out that way." I shift loudly in my chair. The universal sign for 'I want to get out of here.'

"Fuck that." and I leave.

XXX

The thing about heaven is, god doesn't know what people want.

He's never been human; he's never known what its like to have lost everything.

But he pretends to know.

XXX

I wake up in my apartment. Not my heaven one, my Las Vegas one.

It's completely empty. I'm in a white suit on the floor.

I stand up, completely dizzy, and step out the door. It's so bright.

I steal someone's bike and head over to the crime lab. I don't know what kind of sick joke god is trying to pull, but I know anything that happens will happen there.

Whatever God is trying to pull, it isn't funny. This is just cruel.

Everything's perfect. Even the air smells just right. So Las Vegas.

I hear the bike clatter on the sidewalk as I drop it and go into the lab.

Gasp gasp gasp and air conditioned darkness.

XXX XXX

AN: I didn't plan on doing a second chapter, but hey. I worked so hard on this, I think i tweaked it about eight times until it was just perfect. i hope you liked it. more probably. 


	3. chapter 3

"ohmigod." people are fleeing from me.

"omigosh." as I walk by, they push themselves against the walls and into connecting rooms.

"Oh lord..." Becky or someone stands in front of me, seemingly to scared to move.

"Don't. Fucking. Pray to him." I shove her out of my way and push through a silent throng of staring people to Grissoms office.

He's leaning over his desk, staring at me. Everyone else, Nick, Catherine, Warrick, and Sara even, are hovering around. Staring.

"What's going on?"

XXX

This wasn't funny anymore.

This was past cruel too.

God said there wasn't anything he could do to punish me.

If this is him joking, I hate him more than ever.

This cant is real.

XXX

Grissom is pale and serious, his jaw is clenched shut.

Nick and Sara and Catherine and Warrick look almost as freaked as the people I passed in the hall.

There is nothing wrong with this picture. Everyone is just how they should be.

But this can't be real. It just can't.

God does not bring people back to life.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know."

"You're dead." Catherine breathes. "You can't be here."

"I know..." this was starting to scare me too. This is wrong. This whole thing is wrong.

I slide into a chair.

Why is he doing this to me? I can't handle this. I can't do this.

"I can't do this." my hands are shaking. "I...I can't..." I phase out. I feel sick. Blink.

"Greg. Greg." I snap out of it and Grissoms right there. It was like a jump in time. Everyone's here, and then they're not.

"What's going on?" I can't answer. I don't know.

XXX

"This is going to end badly." God said to me.

Another one of our visits where he berates me for not being a perfect citizen.

"You're not going to be happy when it's over."

"I'm not happy now." what was he trying to tell me?

XXX

I don't know why I'm here.

Grissom puts on his gloves and handles me like evidence. But I know he's glad to see me. DreamGrissom would be.

I'm glad to see me too. Here. Alive-maybe. But just like everyone else, I'm confused.

How can this be happening?

"Grissom..." blink.

He's done. Finished in an instant. Evidence bags filled with half my clothes and scrapings from under my nails.

What the fuck? This keeps happening. What is it? A bump in time?

XXX

No one told me I could leave, so I stayed at the lab. Not like I had anywhere to go anyway.

I dug through the break room, and there was still a bag of my Blue Hawaiian coffee in the back of a cabinet.

"I hid it there." blink.

I'm standing up now. Nick's smiling at me.

I don't like this... jumping thing.

"You want some?" the coffee in heaven is pretty bad...

Nick's always been good to me. He makes a full pot of my coffee, and it smells so good. I end up wrapped around myself in a chair. I phase out until Nicks sitting diagonal from me pushing a mug towards me.

"You don't look so good."

"I...I've been through a lot. This is weird for me." Nick laughs.

"Welcome to the club."

Somehow, I think I expect myself to know what's going on. Like everyone else expects me to. I don't like letting people down.

"Tell ya what," what? "Why don't I take you back to my place and you can get some sleep. And maybe some fresh clothes."

It's just then that I realize that Grissom really had taken most of my clothes. I'm sitting in the break room in pretty much just my boxers and a dress shirt. ack. I must look bad.

Funny, I come back from the dead and I'm thinking about how I look.

"Okay."

XXX

I forgot how wonderfully soft Nicks couch was.

I used to get completely wasted and crash at Nick's. He was nice about it too. I used to drink a lot. On bad days, you know.

At least I didn't do drugs like I did when I lived in New York.

"We kept most of your stuff, in case your family ever showed up to claim It." my family? I scoff.

Nick tosses a pair of my jeans at me. I remember loving how soft my jeans were.

Everything is soft in heaven. Everything's too nice. It gets boring.

"here." a soft, worn out flannel-ish shirt about five sizes too big gets thrown in my face. "It's mine. Sorry if it's too big." I roll up the sleeves to my elbows and bury myself in Nicks couch. He lays a blanket over me super-gentle. Crouching down next to me he says, "All set?" I nod.

I am so tired.

"You look exhausted."

"I feel like I haven't slept in forever." he smiles.

And tousles my hair.

I fall asleep curled up with a fleece blanket on Nick's couch.

XXX

"Maybe it's not him."

"What do you mean? How could that not be him?"

"He means it could be a trick of some kind."

"Why? You talked to him... you saw him..." long pause.

"He... he died, Nick." Sara sounds horribly sad...

I can feel nick glaring at her.

I'm asleep, but I can hear all this.

"She's right. We can't be too careful." so not even Grissom believes in me. "But personally, I think it's him. I don't know how, but I think it's him."

"We can do some tests in the morning."

XXXX

AN: sorry this is taking so long to update. Inspiration is coming slow. This story will continue though. In the meanwhile, review. And be sure to tell me what's wrong with it if you find anything. 


	4. chapter 4

"Man, you totally fucked up." I am laughing in God's face. He just smiles at me. It's a little annoying. "I mean, come on! You think you could keep better track of me."

"I never lost track of you."

"Right, that's how you found me in my dreams. Very nice." it'd be nice if I felt superior to God, but that would just be absurd. "But here I am, alive. And dreaming."

"Yes, but you didn't get yourself there." what? It's true I guess, but what? "I put you back."

"But-...wha...why?"

"It wasn't your time; you have a little more to do."

"What? What is it?" so maybe God's not as out of everything as I thought.

"It's a surprise."

XXX

"Greg..." shake shake. I moan. I have never been a morning person.

"Hi..."

"I thought you'd never wake up. You gotta get up, man."

"What time is it?"

"Late afternoon, let's go."

Nicks car is so kickass. I have no idea how he was able to afford this thing.

I'm wearing dress shoes with jeans. I miss my sneakers, tell ya what.

"I rode a bike to the lab yesterday. Is it still there?"

"You don't own a bike, Greg." hm.

"I know. I stole it. I think I should return it." Nick laughs.

"Yea, okay. We'll see if it's there." I don't think he believes I stole it.

XXX

I never used to have time to slack off at work. Not like it's really my 'work' anymore.

I've spent the past three hours staring at the people staring at me.

I am not happy with them. They want to take a break, but they won't even come into the same room as me. These people used to be my friends and co-workers, and now they won't even look at me. Hodges gave me a mean look about half and hour ago, but I ignored him. It's hardly worth it to get attention from him.

"Hey Greg, would you-" I know exactly what Catherine wants.

"Sure." I open my mouth for her. DNA sample.

"Sorry Greggo, but you know."

"I said 'sure'. Now swab my mouth and get it over with." I'm still disappointed none of them really trusted I was me. Except for Nick and Grissom-kind of. I don't want Catherine to feel bad though.

Ever since I was fourteen I have been amazing at covering up pain with sarcasm and humor.

I can't help it.

Catherine rubs the Q-tip along the inside of my cheek, before plopping down in a chair across from me. She stares at the copper-colored cap and sighs.

"I'm sorry about all this."

"Catherine..."

"No Greg, I really am."

"Whatever." I sigh and glare out the glass wall. How could I tell her I knew it was her who first brought up the me-not me thing?

Wow, I'm really moody today.

Maybe it's cause I feel sick as hell.

I can't stay mad at Catherine. She, everyone, has every right to wonder and be suspicious.

I blink and she's gone.

I am so sick of this.

Blink again and Grissom and Catherine are rushing towards me.

"Greg," Grissom says softly. It's funny how much they all say my name. It seems like at least once per sentence. "How do you feel?"

"What?"

"Catherine said you just... stopped, blanked. That you were fiddling with a pen and then dropped it. That your eyes glazed over, just stopped." I was? I did?

Oh crap.

I'm almost panicking. God wouldn't send me back... messed up, would he? Maybe?

I'm too scared to speak.

"Greg?" I nod at him, trying to note that yes, I am still here. I didn't phase out.

That's what happens when things... Skip. Except usually I'm just going on auto-pilot I guess, and I don't... completely stop.

XXX

Grissom insists on taking me to a doctor. I try to argue that they'll all freak out because all of my medical records will state,

'Deceased.'

As in dead. Which, as of now, I'm not.

It's a scary thought to me. That I'm dead to the world.

"No," Grissom sighs. "You're going to a doctor." he can really suck sometimes.

I pout on the ride there. Or try to. I'm not much of a pouter.

I really feel like driving. Grissom says I can't, because I don't have a license. I used to.

"Grissom..." I defiantly shouldn't be asking this. "Why didn't you care when I died?" I know he did, but he bottles up his emotions so much...

God told me once that dreams are the truest things out there.

I was being especially snotty that day. I shrugged and ignored him.

"I cared." Grissom is the epitome of nonchalant.

"You didn't act like it."

"I've lost a lot of people I've cared about, Greg." he sighs, glancing towards me.

Oh god, what have I done?

"I've learnt to deal with it. Don't take it personally."

"I am so-" his cell phone rings.

Technology can really ruin a moment.

"hey, yea..." its so horrible hearing just one side of a conversation."You have the- good... oh. Oh. Yea. Okay. I'll be there soon." click. "Greg?"

I know already.

Important crime scene. A must-have Grissom scene.

"Let's go."

XXX

AN: updating will be slower now. I'm on computer restriction and I have TONS of school work. But I won't quit this story, so hang on! 


	5. chapter 5

All I'm allowed to do is stand in the middle of the room. 

I want my job back. Bad.

I sigh loudly.

"Greg." I've been sighing too much. Grissoms tone of voice tells me so.

But this is an empty room, there's nothing here, and I'm bored. Who wouldn't be? I mean really, tell me. Nick and Sara even looked bored out of their minds.

Nick sighs. Snicker snicker. I love that guy. He's always there for me.

"Grissom, come on. There's nothing here." Sara ends up standing next to Nick and me. We form a pretty tight line.

"Let's check the rest of the house again. Just in case." Group sigh. But alas, Nick and Sara leave.

So I'm left all alone in a big cement room.

I'm bored until the back door creaks open. For some reason, I'm scared stiff.

My neck hurts snapping around to see who's coming in.

Oh. God.

Oh god.

It's him. That guy.

You know the one who shot me. And killed me.

My murderer came in the backdoor again.

He's surprised to see me too, though. Our eyes meet. My stomach turns itself inside out.

I can even hear Nick and Sara and Grissom walking around upstairs.

But I can't make a noise.

"You... you're dead." my murderer sounds so calm. And I still can't talk.

Although, I can't tell whether that was a threat or a statement...

I bet I look like a deer in the headlights.

"I killed you." my hands are shaking. I think I thought this guy didn't really want to kill me. That maybe he felt sorry. I thought that killing me had just happened, an unfortunate ending. But no. this guy had had no qualms about killing me.

"What are you doing here?" ugh. My voice is small and shakey. He gives me a look.

I blink. Oops.

A split second later he has me by the shoulders and flings me into a wall. I sit up shakily. He grabs my hair and slams my head hard into the cement behind me. I gasp.

There's blood in my mouth that dribbles out from between my lips and down the side of my chin.

I'm stunned enough by the blood and the pain that's searing through my head that he doesn't need to hurt me anymore.

But he does.

Still tearing my hair out at the roots, he cracks my head on the wall again. He lets go.

Everything's fuzzy. Except the pain. My head hurts so much.

Little blonde and brown hairs flitter in front of my eyes. Red. There's red on them.

I cough.

"We're not done."

XXX

"Is he okay?" huh.

Those last couple times I've been unconscious, I've been able to see what was going on. Not this time.

I was just unconscious. And bleeding. The back of my neck feels wet.

I bet I've stained Nick's shirt beyond repair.

"I don't... wait..."

"He's waking up." I groan, struggling to open my eyes.

Grissoms right in my face, head cocked off to one side. It's scary how intense he looks.

Not really the first thing a person wants to see when they wake up with a concussion. He has his hand on the back of my neck.

It's nice. He's not checking my pulse, he's supporting me.

"How're you feeling?" I groan again. That's about all I can do right now.

Grissom nods. Nicks grinning like an idiot. Sara smiles down at me nervously.

Before I really know whets going on, Nick and Grissom hoist me to my feet. Standing was awkward before my knees buckled. They have to carry me out to Grissoms big S.U.V.

My head won't stop pounding.

The glass is cool against my forehead. It feels so good. I close my eyes, and it's like tenth grade all over again.

I'd get beat up at school.

I liked it too. The pain gave me something to focus on besides being smart and doing whatever my parents wanted me to do.

My parents. Not like they helped make my life any better.

I would ride the bus home, leaning against the window.

Buses are bumpy, but they were the only peace and relaxation I got that year.

Right now, I can even smell the leaves, like its fall and somebody opened the windows.

I can feel the cool gentle wind. Hear the chatter of my classmates.

"Greg?" Sara snaps me out of my fantasy. "Try and stay awake, okay?" she smiles weakly from across the backseat.

"Okay." I'd nod, but my head hurts too much.

XXX

Hospitals suck.

The doctors and nurses check me over head to toe for about half an hour.

Funny, cause I thought all I did was get my head bashed in.

In any case, I get tucked into a hospital bed with my clothes folded on a chair next to me.

My doctor has Brad Pitt blond hair. He can't be much older than I am. His name is Ellie Meiers.

My eyes are blurry. I can't see well.

Grissom walks up to him. I shouldn't be able to hear them, but I can.

"How is he?" Grissom sounds concerned.

Whoopee. I am so tired.

"Uhm... fine. He's okay. Mr. Sanders here is about the luckiest guy I know though..." Dr. Meiers pauses. "Most people... with that type of head injury... they'd be either dead or in a vegetative state. Ahm... he's very very lucky. It's as if he's got God on his side." he laughs lightly, flipping through my file.

Oh no.

"However," Ellie continues, "there were a few... uhm... oddities about him. That... that I'd like to discuss."

Oh No.

"You said something when you brought him in, about... blackouts?" Grissom nods. "Well, his heart is beating... unusually slow. Technically, his body shouldn't be getting enough blood around to keep him alive. But that might explain the blackouts. His brain isn't getting enough oxygen."

The look on Grissoms face...

"He really shouldn't be able to... uhm... function. It's very very odd." he looks intently down at my medical file. "Also, his breathing is exceptionally slow, his body temperature is low, and... here's something scary, his fingernails are turning black."

I peek down at my hands. The nails do look darker than they used too...

I know what black nails means.

I know what all of this means.

"He's... not really alive?"

Ellie Meiers gasps.

"Well, obviously he is. It's very confusing. But look," he flips idly to the last page in that folder of records. "You probably shouldn't tell him..." his voice trailed off.

He's seen it.

"Mr. Grissom... there must be some mistake..."

"How do you mean?"

"Greg... his file says..." he spins the folder around and shows Grissom the stamp at the bottom of the page that says 'deceased.'

I can tell Grissom doesn't know how to talk his way out of this one.

I wouldn't either.

XXXXXX

**AN:** Thanks bundles to everyone who reviewed on that last chapter. I hope you review on this one too. love and kisses to: bleedingmascara, viu, Quicksliver, lins, Caladwen, Ms. Elizabeth Granger, shacky20, krysalys73, DarkJadedEyes, Miss Smeg, GraveDigger Resurrection, lynneanne, raccoony, Carkey, SevenDayBlues, and last but not least Laura-trekkie.

Love Always. And I'll update as soon as possible!


	6. chapter 6

I can't believe this. He couldn't... he wouldn't...

"you." now I wish I hadn't let the morphine get the better of me. "What is this?" I glance down at my nails. They look okay now...

God won't look me straight in the eye.

"Why would you do this to me?" why? "Why bring me back to life... only half way?"

"Let me explain this..." I tap my dying nails on his desk. "Bringing a person back to life is easy, reviving and rejuvenating the body is easy..."

"So why am I... decomposing?"

"Because it's not permanent. I can't have a dead man walking around for too long."

Shit.

"You mean I'm gonna die again?" no way. No way. It would have been better he he'd never brought me back at all.

Las Vegas was the only place I was ever happy. How. Dare. He.

"I told you you still had more to do, didn't I?"

XXX

"Greg?" wait.

Doesn't it suck when you wake up right at the best part of the dream?

"hey Catherine..." my head hurts." Warrick... wow. hey." but the morphine takes care of most of it.

"Hey Greggo."

I want to ask them all about that stuff the doctor told Grissom. But then... I wonder if they know.

Of course they must. Why else would Warrick come visit me in the hospital? We were never really friends.

Out of everyone in the lab, Nick and I were buddies. Kinda.

"How do you feel?" Catherine pulls up a chair and takes my hand. Faux-caring sympathy and comfort. But I can't see she's sneaking glances.

To see if my nails really are black.

Warrick's staring intently at my heart monitor, which, now that I look at it, is beeping after long intervals.

Shit. This is so messed up.

"I'm hopped up on drugs. You know, good times." they laugh nervously. "Can I go home?"

"Not yet. Soon though. Okay?"

"Yes Catherine. sure." not like I have a home to go to, but I hate hospitals. Honestly I do.

I sigh. Sigh sigh sigh. This sucks.

Catherine and Warrick leave and I'm all alone.

I still can't believe God would do this to a person. It's inhumane.

It's hard to think, "When will my body kick out? When will all this borrowed time be used up?"

Speaking of, I feel fine. I shouldn't be wasting my mini-life sitting around in a hospital.

Getting up isn't fun though. Seeing as I ripped out my IV and removed all the monitor things attached to me, I'm more than a little sore.

Plus, without the morphine constantly being pumped through my veins my head is killing me.

If my heart is barely beating, how was the morphine getting around anyway? I guess I'll never know.

The pain is so bad I'm dizzy.

Next thing I know I'm on the floor.

My breathing sounds... normal paced. Not to slow not to fast. Labored though.

I get dressed slowly, keeping my body braced against the bed.

There's way less blood on the collar of Nicks shirt than I thought.

So little, in fact, I can brush most of the dry, caked, flakes off with my thumb.

And I do.

The nurses don't even notice when I leave.

I don't sign myself out or anything, I just leave.

Walk out the door.

How convenient. There's a bike waiting right there for me. It's white too. Ugh.

So God's for saving the environment. But not me. There's no helmet. Even if he did provide one I wouldn't have used it, I'm a horrible person like that. It would've been nice to at least think he was concerned about my safety.

And off to the lab I go.

The air feels fantastic, much better than the recycled air from 1986 in the hospital. I feel so alive with the wind ruffling through my hair.

Zip zip zip through traffic, ditch the bike, and walk in.

Direct line to Grissoms office. Try to ignore the gawkers.

What? Like they've never seen a dead buy before. Fuck it.

"Grissom, I-" whoa. I tip over. I' m suddenly so dizzy I literally fall over. I land hard on my hands and knees.

"g-Greg?" who's voice is that?

"...M-Mia?" she grins. She was supposed to be my replacement when I became a full-fledged CSI. I guess she replaced me anyway.

"Oh my god, I thought you were dead!" I laugh, she helps me up. Under my breath I say, 

"Yea, welcome to the club." then louder, "yea, something like that."

She laughs.

"Where is everybody?" I have this weird feeling. A bad one.

"Oh... I don't know... on assignment I guess. Do you want some tea? Or coffee or something? I'm on break." "Uh... no thanks."

"Were you in the hospital or something? Catherine said she was..." I guess she's still talking but I can't hear her.

'Greg?' I can see that panicked look in Cath's eyes.

"Oh gees, are you okay?" I look up through my fingers. I was holding my head. Oh god. I wasn't imagining Catherine, I was seeing her. In my fucking head.

Fuck.

"Where're Grissom and Nick?" that bad feeling is getting worse by the second.

"Uhm..."

"Mia! Tell me!" now I'm the one panicking.

"Here!" she snatches a slip of paper off Grissoms desk and shoves it at me. Running out, I crumple it into my pocket. "What are you gonna do?"

XXX

Bicycles do not go fast enough. Of course, the fact that I'm not in the best shape doesn't help either.

By the time I get to the address on that little orange slip of paper I feel like I'm dying all over again. No amount of adrenaline could stop this pain.

My lungs are burning. It's so hard to breathe.

I'm at a big deserted house; these are never anything but bad news. But I trek up the driveway anyway, panting the whole way.

"Nick!" damn. I can't even yell yet. Coughing, I plop down in front of the door.

A car pulls up. I don't recognize it. A man gets out.

Oh... you have got to be fucking kidding me.

Seriously. This is just annoying

Guess who? It's him again.

That son of a bitch who tried to kill me twice and succeeded once.

God's such a bitch. I swear.

"Grissom!" my voice is only at half capacity. And I'm yelling through an oak door. Stupid stupid Greg.

And now he knows I'm here.

Could this day honestly get any worse?

How many days have I been back? Two or three I'm guessing.

My nails are completely black now. Shit.

This guy is a whole head taller than me.

"You just don't die, do you?"

"Greg?" Grissoms leaning out a window on the second floor.

"GRISSOM!" I didn't realize how much having a brass door handle slam into one's spine hurts.

I do now. He shoved me back into the door. 

I even see his fist before it clips my cheek.

In high school, I got in fights a lot. Okay, not fights, I got beat up. But I'm fast because of it. Not too tough though.

I take a swing at him. A big sissy white boy swing, wide and slow. Miraculously, I hit him.

In return, I get tossed like a rag doll onto the sidewalk.

My face is bleeding.

All those instincts come back.

I'll tell ya; this was not a pretty scuffle.

I get a couple good hits in, but he ends up beating down on my lower arms. With every hit my arms, up defending my head, get knocked closer and closer in.

Eep.

What the hell is taking Grissom and Nick so long?

My body notices a break in the barrage before my mind does.

Arms go up, arms go down. Right on his head.

I force all my weight into the momentum. It carries me down along with my arms and his head.

I see the knife in his boot.

Pressure right under my jaw bone and... Squish.

It's a wet kind of unrelenting pain that, even though the blade didn't hit anything else in my head, my entire me hurts.

I am so lucky though.

Too bad I can't move.

He tugs the knife out, grinning. The blood seeps out from between my fingers clutching the wound.

I taste metal.

I'm soaking in my own blood. I'm spitting it out.

It's funny; this guy honestly looks a little scared now. Loser.

The bleeding slows way down. I guess I didn't have all that much blood in me after all.

"Greg!" crack, boom. Whoosh. Down.

Nick. With the smoking gun.

"Are you okay?" he's got me by the shoulders now. Still clutching my neck, I can't believe him.

"Have you seen me?" I croak. "Sorry I ruined your shirt."

"I don't care. I'm just glad you're okay..." he hugs me. I spit a blood clot over his shoulder. Gross.

"Lemme go, Nick." Grissom steps out the front door. I smile weakly. He smiles.

My socks feel wet. Huh.

Then I remember the dead guy behind me. I completely forgot about my now-dead murderer. Go nick.

I feel kinda funny. In a good way.

And then I fall down. I collapse over backwards. I shouldn't feel this good.

XXX

I wake up face down. I feel along a rough little scar on my neck.

Oh.

I wish I could honestly believe that all this white means a hospital. But I know it doesn't.

It means I'm dead again. Sigh.

"Hey Greg." I'm just gonna ignore him. "You did well. I'm proud of you."

"I...I don't..."

"That man, Jacob Melito, he would have killed Grissom and Nick. You saved them. At risk of your own life." does that mean anything? "Do you want a third chance?"

"What? I thought-"

"Three strikes, Greg. Three is the number for everything. Read some Shakespeare. So? What do you say?"

"Yes."

"I am proud of you Greg, really I am."

XXX

Heart-heart-heartbeat.

No way. Shit, no way.

"Mr. Sanders?" click click click. This is very... nice. Very very nice.

"Greg!" A chorus of people swarms in. I can barely even hear what they're all saying. But everyone's smiling. Me too I guess.

"I can't believe it... Greg, look." Catherine shows me my nails. They're not only better trimmed than I ever had them, but they're pink. A nice fleshy pink. Peach, one might say.

I laugh.

"This is... fantastic." it's even fantastic to hear my voice. I thought I was a goner for sure. Again.

"Tell us about it, Greg." Grissom smiles awkwardly.

"About what?"

"Heaven." I don't know if it's a secret or not. Can I tell them... or what? I mean, will I get in trouble? I'd bet that more trouble would be bad for me.

"Please, Greg." Sara smiles. It seems like such a funny question. What is there, really, to say about it?

"White." I end up saying, quietly. "It's all white. And quiet. And a little boring." they laugh.

"A nice place to visit," I say, "but I wouldn't want to live there."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fini

I know the ending sucks, but I couldn't bring myself to kill him off... again. That was in my original plan, but I kinda like this. Well, please comment, I'd love to have all you guys' input. Thanks for reading, and GOOD NIGHT!

-much love, Kagii 


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